Am I Low? I don't think so....

I can't tell any more. Things are drifting away again.

Here I am in another hostel, loaded with people, but none of them click. Am I just not participating or are they leaving me out? No, "leaving me out" does not seem like the right thing to say.

Am I being overlooked?

What happened to the old days? Is this what "off season" is all about?
The occastional backpacker in a heard of spring break heathenistic college kids?

Hell, I finished school before I took up the travel(And at this rate I'll take up the drink before they finish their second year.) I don't know how these kids get the funds to make their way across this chaotic continent. Their parents are either loaded, or the kids sell drugs.

Athens had a room full of noisy college girls. They acted like a pack of pre-teen girls in highschool. Their laughing kept most of the travellers up until 1AM.

My nerves are constantly getting dulled with restrain. My mind is getting tired. This tour is almost over, I can feel it. I can see London off in the horizon. The civility. The calm of millions of torrent minds suffering across kilometers of madness. I want to feel the insanity that I felt almost 3 months ago. But this time it will be different.

This time I will be a different person. I know what I can achieve on my own.

I still don't know who I am but I know what I can be.

Who I am will come later on in life. That's more of an India type thing.

Europe develops potential. It tests your communication skills with the fellow backpacker. It tests your patience on idle trains heading nowhere. It tests your ability to spend what you need and take what you can find. It tests the physical and emotional feilds of humanity.

My spirit is still empty. My soul continually gets crushed, each and everyday. It seems as though my soul is a million miles away, back somewhere more familiar.

Maybe my friends sense it. Maybe they know how much I need them right now. Maybe they don't. No one reads this anyways. It's as good as dead. As hollow as my spirit this time around.

Tonight, it occured to me that I am lonely. I am missing a counterpart or a female companion in life. I have not had an actual, relationship wise, girl friend for over 5 years. To put it simply; "It's was the best of times and it was the worst of times".

Depression? I don't think so.

"Loneliness is such a drag....."

Rags to Ruins: a day in Athens

Athens. I do not know what to think of it anymore.

I did'nt even want to go there but I was walking around Thessaloniki when it hit me:

"When is the next time you will be this close to Athens?"

So, after three hours of poking around the sleepy Macadonian City of Thessaloniki, I decided to hop a train south. Four hours later, I was in Athens.

Best decision to make.

When I saw the site of Zues' Olympian I realized what magic there was to such old ruins. Hadrians arch gave me tingles. The acropolis (though covered in an exoskeleton of scaffolding) blew my mind...

The structure of such architecture! Magnificent!

I don't care if everything has been reconstructed, it has to be! We need these historical centers to remind ourselves that there once was intelligent people in this world.

Socrates, Plato; both dead!
John Locke, Voltaire, Rousseau; All DEAD
Beethoven; DEAD
Nietsche; DEAD
Hemmingway; BLEW HIS BRAIN OUT

What do all these people have in common? Something, I am sure of, but it does not matter. The point of points is that if you tear down history you are just waiting to get fucked all over again.

These ruins speak to you. If someone could build world wonders 2000 years before your birth, why are we still allowing people to wollow in their own shit? Why have we not evolved together? Why have we let race, religion and nationalism define "us and them"?

What happened to effort? Why do we not invest into the construction of neo-classical architecture? Why is it all steel and glass? Who is right who is wrong? Who is left singing the song?

If Paris awoke the writer,
Berlin awoke the soul,
Amsterdam tickled curiosisty,
And Switzerland bound them whole.

Prague was overrated,
Budapest took it's toll,
Bucharest shawn through filth,
I then found Istanbul.

If Vienna awoke the pianist,
and Krakow turned on the charm,
then Athens awoke the thought
that could do no harm....

Dogs and Cats

There are animals roaming around everywhere. Strays, aka community amimals, lounge around all across south eastern Europe.
Dogs in Bucharest and Brasov...
Cats in Istanbul and Athens...
Puppies in ruinous buildings...
Kittens own the Aya Sofya...

It was even raining cats and dogs the day I left Istanbul...

Thessaloniki had nothing going on, just a big white tower on the coast...
Athens is better than I expected...

I can't wait for Rome...
Friends and family are the key...

A hookah smoking caterpillar told me where to go...

Istanbul...

Bucharest: The Final Frontier

Ok. Bucharest.

The name strikes fear into the hearts of travellers.

"What's there?" I hear...

"Well, my friends, everything you need to see once in your life.
The sun and the moon!
Sour milk and runny eggs!
Baklava and Funnel Cake!
God and Man walk hand in hand!
Damian sits back and takes his place among the ruins on the streets!
Excavators dig up the past while the people bury their communist past!
HARK, HARK! What is that I see? The Dog! The Gypsy! The bad driver! All rule the street!

"I am in Hell, but blessed in shades of blissful grey!
If this is hell then I would rent an apartment along the phony Champs Elyse....

"There is no side walk! There are only Side Parks...
Cars everywhere, traffic lights are not to be used. Green men mean nothing!
I am an insect, vermon, waiting along the side of the road... Frogger applies to the meak!

"I am the protagonist...
I am the enemy...

"I am loved and hated... Romania hath no heart...

"Let the tourist bleed among a pride of lions, cast to the barren streets, the abandoned apartment complex...

"I am cherished as a champion of the people, a hero to the youth...
I am feared by the elders, tied to the spit and hung out to dry...

"MAKE UP YOUR MIND... ROMANIA, MAKE UP YOUR MIND...
YOU ARE A MESS... YOUR STREETS ARE TORN TO PEICES!!!

"JUST CLOSE SHOP FOR 20 MINUTES... HANG UP THAT "UNDER CONSTRUCTION" SIGN IN YOUR WINDOW... I WOULD NOT CHANGE YOU FOR A SECOND... I LOVE THE ANARCHY... I LOVE THE PAIN!!!

"TOMORROW WILL BE A DIFFERENT DAY!!! I WILL WAKE UP NOT KNOWING WHO YOU ARE, FOR YOUR FACE WILL HAVE CHANGED... YOU WILL NEVER BE THE SAME... I WILL LOVE YOU TODAY..."

The Fanta and the damage done....

Romania is a funny, funny place...
It has that 1970 vibe, you know the kind, with smoking in restaurants, bars, the post office... Everything is falling apart and dying, much worse than Budapest...

There is the wonderful Borat style horse and buggy mode of transporation along the rural roads... Gypsy colonies border the rail way... Transient dogs rule the streets and howl in the night... This is Brasov, Transylvania...

I took an 11 hour train ride from Budapest to Brasov. It was dark when I arrived, complete with a full moon behind a film of autumn haze. The dogs were running amuck with bloated bellies and a listles look in their eyes, barking, BARKING, at the moon.

I was in my typical dress, tee shirt and shorts, with a 50lb bag on my back. This is my costume. I am the tourist. I stick out horribly. Europeans do not wear shorts at night, or even during the day.

Europeans are in a league of their own and I have a story to go along with this open ended observation...

They are insane. No logic, no ability to see the right in the wrong. These people, Eastern Europeans, live to scam the tourist out of an honest dollar. It's in their blood, it's how they are made to think. How to fuck the idiot. I guess it is the same in North America but the one doing the fucking is more of a snake hiding in the grass. No, the Eastern European, the Romanian, the Gypsy is a house of cards, a powder keg, a line of dominos... They are just waiting for the tourist to move the wind, strike the match or push the erect black and white monolith just to watch the production that ensues...

I wanted a Fanta orange drink the bus stop.. I opened the door and a sucktioned cupped shelf fell off of the door window. The cans hit the ground with a horrible thud... 6 full aluminum cans of energy dirnks fell all over the road... two of them exploded... this Romanian woman came out screaming in her dialect.. I just wanted a Fanta... I said i was sorry but the sucktion cups gave way under the weight of their own full cans... I tried telling her this rational logic but she kept screaming... So i left for a new booth to get a fanta...

She followed me and took my toque right off my head and marched back to her both..I was astonished... I got this toque for free but yet it was the a solid piece of Canadian Identity... it was a part of me... it was a badge of Canadian honour... and she took it... right off my head.... I acted like i didnt care but then I went back to her booth... an old man opened his wallet and showed me some ID...i think he wanted me to think he was a cop.. I told him "this means nothing to me"

Then the sh*thit the fan.. people were surrounding me... ugly people... a Romanian gang mentality... I asked for my toque back but this Vender kept yelling at me in her high pitched dialect.. I tried to leave, thinking that my toque was lost, cut my losses, give up the ghost and leave it alone... but this short fat romanian woman was not letting me leave..she spoke up... I was in a den of wolves hungry for revenge on the foreigner... The fat lady made some obscure sign with her finger pointing to her cheek... the old phony cop grabbed my arm... they wanted blood... and I wanted out...

I started my own offensive.. I got vocal..i started to swear. and I told them that this was a dirty trick... I pulled out my wallet..i was defeated.. I handed over 6 Lei, the price of an energy drink... close to 3 CND dollars... but she was screaming about a second drink, one which I had not noticed, that was broken... I protested Even more... but I caved in and gave them 12 Lie...

When It ended you could tell who had won... all these Romanian spectators... ganging up on a tourist.. who wanted a fanta orange drink...

I got my toque back... put it on my head, and turned to leave... but i got in the last word, along with a final laugh from all those English tourists who sat back and watched my martyrdom... I started to walk away...

"Are you happy you god damned Gypsies! You can all keep sucking on Dracula's ****"

Sure it was crude, but after 5 minutes of adrenalined passion it was the only thing I could think of in the moment... but, like I said..It generated a good chuckle from those who watched me die...

The moral of the Story is, Everyone is a Gypsy... they will bleed you for what you've got... they will take your money, and wound your pride and slip into the dark, cold Carpanthian Mountains...

I want to go back there today and see her again to get my revenge...

... and the sun sets on Budapest

The city is full of disfunctional people. They are decaying with the paint and plaster on each city block. I feel so perfect when I cross Chain Bridge with the jingle-jangle of loose change in my pocket. To my left, I pass a broken man, gymped from birth? maybe destroyed over time. He is begging for money without using words. I wouldn't understand him anyways.

He is nothing and I am everything but, yet, I lend him nothing.
Is this horrible?

Back home it is Thanks Giving (My parents told me, so it must be true). I have missed the annual family festivities. The turkey, the mashed potatoes, the conversations and free beer.

After picking up my new debit cards from the Embassy, I picked up my own supplies to cook up my own Thanksgiving dinner. Things are different this year. Things are always changing but yet they stay the same.

Tomorrow I leave for Brasov. Home of myth and lore. I leave at 7:45am and I am expected to arrive at 8pm. It is going to be a long day stuck in one seat but at least I am out of this corrosive metropolis.

Good bye Danube... I'm sure we'll meet again some where down the road....

Hungary and Baroque

Okay.

I lost my wallet in Budapest. I actually do not like to say that I lost my wallet because that suggests that it is totally my fault. So I tell everyone that my wallet has vanished. This is more fitting because it opens the possiblity that my wallet had been stolen by one of those horrid gypsy types.

I actually like the gypsies. They stick out like a sore, brown, horribly dressed thumb.

Anyways, I was walking around Buda castle when I decided to grab something to eat. A nice stale cinibon from the local foodshop atop castle hill. I continued my little tourist sightsee journey around the hill, photographing this and that. After an hour and a half, I walked down to Mammut Shopping complex.

*I am currently looking on the market for a new memory card for my camera. Turns out 12 gbs is not enough for my e-photo album.*

When I came to Europe`s version of Futureshop I noticed that a certain buldge in my pants was missing. Where could it have gone? Somewhere between Buda Castle and Mammut Shopping center. Frantically I raced around town asking shop clerks with no sense of English. I swore at nothing and everything.

My ID, my SIN card, my debit cards... all gone.

My supply line was cut. There I was, in central Hungary, alone and broke.

It was the most amazing sensation. For months, now, I have been roaming Europe, carefree. And suddenly, in the matter of seconds, I could not even get across town on public transit. I had less than $5 CND in my pocket. I had 4 Polish dollars, and 65 Hungarian Forints.

To put it lightly, I was up shit creek...

But now I had a purpose. Now I had a special task to achieve during my days here in Budapest. I had to rebuild my empire. Bridge the gap to establish ties to my supply line.

The next day, as I walked to my embassy, a song came on my head phones. The Newpornographers really touched me. Their words spoke true in the early morning light. Something that hardly happens but when it does, it lasts for an eternity and all else seem to be non existant.
Like you are the only person alive that can hear the true meaning.
But at the same time you really amount to nothing...

I was under the radar...

I was too far down the rabit hole... out of my element... I was alone and I had to find myself again.

`A new Empire in rags`

This flooded my little brain with emotion. It is a rollar coaster here in Europe.

`It was the best of times, it was the worst of times....`

I finally phoned home the following day. 24 hours later I had access to some money wired to me through Western Union. Godbless the 21st century. Here I thought I might finally be free for the first time in my life. Liberated from the helping hand of man. Without money, identification, and a passport, you are nothing. You are a ghost to the world. You mean nothing, and you achieve nothing for the greater good of man. But you are free.

Freedom, my friends, is independence. It is being nothing to the rest of man. It is highest state of Being but the lowest level of productivity.

And to think I was nearly sleeping on Freedom`s doorsteps....


Adiós, from Budapest

ps. I hope you get my witty little title....

Prahaha, the jokes on you....

Prague was a let down. It really was not what I had wanted in a city. I know, it's a tough act to follow Berlin, but it was just another city. It was like Tacoma with cobble stone, or a Seattle with spires.

Europe is not funny anymore!

Before coming east I would walk down the street and become a participant in some rare festival. Free beer, free food, happy faces all around.

Now here I am, behind the Iron Curtain, getting looks kicked in my direction.

I am no longer a participant in a festival. I am no longer getting laughs for free. I am paying for it mentally and physically. I'm getting older just by being in the here and now.

I am embracing my seclusion but begging for company. I am dreaming of a life somewhere I am not. I am drinking poisons to rediscover everything I already knew. I am no longer living in Disneyland, I am standing around watching history continuously shit kick the meek.

I am the associated with the authors of this historical text. I am a Canadian associated with North America, associated with America, associtated with the devil, soon to be condemned to another shift of power.

Hell, it already began a long, long time ago. Soon enough, the forgotten authors will be historically shit kicked by a new renissance.

The rules have changed with the faces, and the hair colour, and the eyes, and the mentality. I am slowly drifting towards the outskirts of my safety.

I see deception in the eyes.
Theift is a child's game, revenge is for the young men, spite is for the golden aged.
Anyone can steal. Anyone can kill. People will do anything when you believe you have been cheated your whole life.

Hemmingway once wrote "the world is a fine place, worth the fighting for."
I see it differently. The world is a horrible place when fought for.

But then again, I have never had to fight for anything my whole life through. What would I know?

Krakow sticks out amongst the shit in Poland. It's nice and tidy. The city center is clean and under constant protection by roaming police vans.

The country side is vile and unkempt. Vacant buildings still stand along the railroad. Piles of brikes and piping are scattered over old industrial sectors. This is not God's Country. This country has been forgotten and left to rot. But Krakow is peaceful.

An oasis amongst the wastelands? I don't know, it's hard to forget their tainted past.....